Shattered
by IMTheresa
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point. Even Dean Winchester.
1. Chapter 1

**Shattered**

Disclaimer: I still don't own them, but if I did, they'd hug once in a while.

A/N: I'm not quite sure how I got the idea for this, but it had something to do with a conversation about the season two premier on the Yahoo group, Supernatural on the WB. At least I think that's what the discussion was about… anyway, I hope you enjoy this. Reviews are welcome. Don't make me beg.

oooOOOooo

_To himself everyone is immortal; he may know that he is going to die, but he can never know that he is dead - Samuel Butler_

ooOOOooo

He didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep, but when the nightmare ended and Sam Winchester's eyes flew open, he was relieved. He glanced over at the other bed and saw his brother was still asleep. He tried to calm his breathing and with a shaky hand, he wiped his sweat-covered face. It was nearly four thirty in the morning and he knew he'd gotten all the sleep he was going to, so he got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom.

Dean heard the water running in the shower and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. He groaned seeing it wasn't even five o'clock yet. Back when Sam was plagued by nightmares, Dean had gotten used to waking up at odd times to find his brother in the shower or on the computer, but he couldn't remember the last time that happened. Dean got out of bed and put on a pot of coffee. He tried to act nonchalant when Sam came out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a t-shirt; Sam poured himself a cup of coffee without a word.

Sam sat down on the edge of his bed only glancing at Dean, who was searching the Internet for their next job.

"Good morning, Sunshine." Dean said.

Sam muttered something before taking a sip of coffee.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Nope." Sam took another sip of coffee.

Dean looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The only dreams Sam kept to himself were those about Jessica, and Dean hoped those dreams were gone for good.

"What?" Sam demanded, noticing that Dean hadn't gone back to the computer.

"Nothin'." Dean shrugged. "It's just you haven't had a nightmare in a while."

"What makes you think it was a nightmare?" Sam challenged angrily. "Maybe I just couldn't sleep!"

"Fine." Dean held up his hands. "Whatever, Dude."

Sam watched as his brother stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Any idea where we're headed next?"

"No." Dean nodded toward the laptop. "Knock yourself out."

oooOOOooo

They still didn't have a definite destination, but were headed south on I-29 later that morning. Sam hadn't been any more successful than Dean in finding something that needed their attention and they chose a direction at random. Dean figured they would make Omaha by late afternoon, where they would need to make a decision. If they stayed on the current highway, they'd end up in Lawrence and Dean had no interest in visiting their hometown.

Sam was quiet and sullen; Dean couldn't entice him to talk so they rode quietly with classic rock music playing in the background. Most of the time Dean enjoyed driving and being left to his thoughts, but these days his head was a scary place. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts went back to his father and the sacrifice he'd made to save Dean's life.

Dean had never wanted to live at the expense of someone else; especially at the expense of his father. There was still no real proof that John made a deal with the demon that took Mary from her family, but there was no reason not to believe that's exactly what happened. Dean hated it. He hated that instead of destroying the demon that killed Mary, John made a deal with it. He hated thinking about whatever torture he might be going through. Most of all, Dean hated the thought of going on without him.

John Winchester knew about all sorts of supernatural entities. He could spot patterns that no one else could. He'd saved countless people over the years. He was smarter than anyone Dean knew and never seemed to be scared of anything. What about Dean could possibly compare to all of that?

Sam looked over at his brother when he saw Dean visibly shudder and nearly swerved off the road.

"You okay?" he asked, the first time he's spoken since they left the motel.

Dean silently cursed himself. He didn't have the luxury of giving into his feelings this way. He had to be strong for Sam; especially if the nightmares were going to start again.

"Yeah." Dean said, his voice rough. "I guess my mind wandered."

"There's a town up ahead. Maybe we should get out of the car for a while."

"Sure." Dean agreed, more shaken up than he was letting on.

Sam glanced at his brother again. Normally Dean could drive for hours without a break, but something was definitely weighing on him. He regretted not taking Dean up on his offer to talk earlier; not for himself, but for his brother. Lately he seemed to blame himself for everything that was wrong in their lives and Sam was afraid that by not talking to him earlier, Dean had loaded up on some more guilt.

But it was too hard to talk about the dream. He'd been doing well to hide it for three or four days and this morning was just a mistake. How was he supposed to tell Dean, who already blamed himself for their father's death, that he had started dreaming about where John might be? Sam's dreams had the tendency to predict events and the last thing Dean needed was what he would take for confirmation that John was indeed somewhere bad.

They sat in a booth at a fast food restaurant; neither one was hungry but they both needed to be out of the car. Sam took a long drink of the soda and dunked a fry into the puddle of ketchup on the burger wrapper between them. Dean looked at him, desperately wanting to know what was going on in his head. They'd talked about the deal they suspected their father made and Sam never once made any indication that he blamed Dean for anything. But how could he not? It was Dean's fault that Sam would never be able to make peace with John.

oooOOOooo

Sam hated when there was silence between them. Dean already kept so much inside, but since John died…Sam looked at his brother. Dean was staring at his burger between each forced bite. Sam leaned forward, his hands flat on the table.

"Dean."

And that was all it took. Dean struggled to remain in control, but his lips quivered and his eyes filled with tears. He wanted to be anywhere but here right now, but at the same time, he needed to be near his brother. He rarely let anyone, even Sam, completely inside the fortress he'd built for himself, but sometimes his brother found a secret entrance. All it took was a look or a word said in a certain tone and all of Dean's defenses were gone.

Dean set his jaw and looked anywhere but at Sam.

"Come on, man, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about. You're the one who's been in a pissy mood."

Sam nodded. "You're right. But I'm not the one who almost drove us into a tree."

Dean looked at him sharply. "I did no such – that's not fair."

"Hey, at least you're looking at me now. Why don't you try talking to me?"

"What is there to say, Sam? We've been over it and over it. Why don't you tell me about your dream?"

Sam knew all of Dean's tricks to avoid talking about his feelings. Sometimes he went the stoic approach and other times he tried to direct things back to Sam. He could sometimes work around the first to get Dean to talk, but never the second. He sighed and picked up another fry.

"We're a couple hours out of Omaha." Dean said a moment later. "We should figure out where we're going."

"How about we just stay in Omaha for the night? We could go out, grab some beers –"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? You never want to go out and grab beer."

"That's not true." Sam shrugged. "I do sometimes."

Dean smiled at him. He knew Sam's suggestion was purely for his benefit, but the truth was, he could use a night off. He enjoyed having a case to work on, but lately it was so hard to concentrate and he was sometimes afraid that his screw up would get Sam hurt. Every day he woke up wondering how he was going to get through the next twenty-four hours, yet somehow he would; only to have another twenty-four to face.

oooOOOooo

They checked into a motel outside the city limits, but near a bar that looked promising.

"Neither one of us slept all that great last night." Dean said as he tossed his duffle bag onto the floor. "How about we try to get a couple hours and then head out?"

Sam nodded. "Sure."

Dean sat down on the bed closest to the door and reached for the alarm clock. "I don't want to end up sleeping all night."

"If you need the alarm to wake up, maybe we should just take it easy tonight. If you sleep, must mean you needed it."

"I don't want to be up at four again and have nothing to do but get on the road."

Sam sat on the other bed and kicked off his shoes. Dean enjoyed driving. He especially enjoyed driving his Impala and Sam couldn't help but wonder what the real meaning of Dean's words was. He watched as his brother set the alarm, then settled back on the bed.

"Get some shut-eye, Sammy. You're buying the first round tonight and I'm going to beat your ass at darts."

"Says you." Sam muttered as he slipped out of his jacket and climbed under the covers.

oooOOOooo

Sam woke up just before the alarm went off; his breathing coming in gasps due to the dream. It started out the same as the others he had over the last few days, but this time he saw his brother in the dream as well. He managed to calm his breathing as Dean reached for the clock to turn off the alarm.

"Up and at 'em, Sammy. You've got beer to buy."

"Fine, but I'm taking a shower."

Dean watched as Sam headed to the bathroom, certain he'd had another dream. He decided not to say anything; Sam would talk when he was ready. He settled back into the pillow, which was unusually soft for a cheap motel, and closed his eyes.

Sam leaned against the shower wall as the warm water rolled down his back. It was bad enough seeing his father in pain and being tortured, but seeing Dean….what did it mean? Was something going to happen to his brother? He shook his head to clear it and finished with the shower.

The conversation between them was light as they headed to the bar. Without saying it, both had decided to put all the problems aside for the night. They had things to talk about, things to fix between them, but sometimes it was easier just to ignore those things and try to have some fun together.

The bar was the same as any they'd been to before. It was furnished with cheap tables and chairs; it looked like the best kept items in the place were the pool tables. Dean eyed them almost hungrily as he settled at one of the few empty tables while Sam got two beers from the bartender.

"Thanks." he muttered as Sam joined him at the table.

"Sizing up the competition?" Sam smiled.

Dean smirked. "What competition?"

They clinked their beer bottles together.

After sharing a plate of nachos and a couple more beers, Dean went off to play pool, leaving Sam to people-watch on his own. Normally he would have their father's journal or his laptop with him, but tonight was about time off and trying to have a little fun.

Sam enjoyed people-watching and split his attention between his brother and the other people in the bar. When they first arrived, most of the customers were older, working class men who drank mainly domestic beer. As the night wore on, more young people arrived, ordering microbrews and mixed drinks. Dean was in his element; he won a few hundred dollars playing pool, then started to drink tequila shots with pretty women, collecting phone numbers along the way. Sam was always surprised at how easy it was for Dean with women. His cheesy lines always seemed to work on them and they turned over their phone numbers, or more, like they were under a spell. It had been a while since Dean felt like hitting on women, and as much as Sam hated to admit it, he felt better seeing his brother in action. It was almost like the old Dean was back.

"Why are you still just sitting here, Sammy?" Dean smiled as he fell into the chair across from his brother. "I'm good, but I can't handle all these women by myself."

"I can't compete with you." Sam joked.

Dean could see his brother was ready to leave. Truth was, Dean had been ready to go at least an hour earlier and was staying only to keep up appearances with Sam. "I'm gonna hit the head; you ready to get out of here?"

"If you're done collecting phone numbers you won't use." Sam smiled.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**Shattered**

**Chapter 2**

Disclaimer: I still don't own them, but if I did, they'd hug once in a while.

oooOOOooo

_The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation - Henry David Thoreau_

oooOOOooo

Sam helped Dean take off his jacket and eased him into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow and Sam took off his shoes before pulling the blanket up over him. He even put Dean's favorite knife under his pillow, knowing if Dean woke up, he would expect to find it there.

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, watching his brother for several minutes before crawling under the covers himself. He didn't want to sleep, didn't want to run the risk of dreaming, but he also knew he didn't really have a choice. When he used to dream about Jessica's death every time he closed his eyes, he fought to stay awake, but that only worked for so long. He was tired and irritable all the time and more than once Dean had to pull him back from the brink of some potentially fatal mistake. As much as he hated the dream, he hated the idea of putting himself or his brother in danger like that again.

When Sam's eyes opened the next time, he could see daylight filtering in through the thin curtains. He could hear water running in the shower and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was just after eight.

Dean hoped the water covered the sound of him throwing up. When he was done, he leaned back against the bathroom wall and rested his head in his hands. It took a few minutes for him to gather his strength, but managed to get in and out of the shower without incident. He left the bathroom wearing only a t-shirt and underwear.

Sam wasn't in the room, but he'd left the bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of water on the table. Dean swallowed a couple of the pills and took the water with him back to the bed. He was under the covers again when Sam came back with two large cups of coffee.

"How you feelin'?" Sam asked as he put one of the cups on the bedside table.

"Swell." he sat up slowly and reached for the coffee. He glanced at Sam as he sat down at the table and booted up the laptop. "Thanks for last night, Sam."

His brother looked at him sharply, but tried to recover. "Yeah. So, on my way to the diner for the coffee, I noticed a bookstore. It doesn't open for a couple of hours, but I'd like to check it out."

Dean took a careful sip of coffee. "And you figure that will give me time to recover?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Dean paused. "But you're right."

Sam looked at him, but didn't say anything. Dean wasn't normally this agreeable, especially when he had a hangover.

"Did you have any nightmares?" Dean asked a moment later.

"No."

"Really no or you don't want to talk about it no?"

"Really no."

Dean took a few sips of coffee. He was pretty sure Sam was telling him the truth, but sometimes the kid had a way of hiding things in places that even Dean couldn't find. He watched Sam over the top of the cup and wondered what was going on in his head. He knew Sam was worried about him, and he was pretty sure he had good reason to be, but he also knew there was something going on with his brother, too.

oooOOOooo

After Sam had been gone for a while, Dean started to feel better and decided to do something productive; sharpen his favorite knife. He laid the supplies on the round table next to Sam's computer, but when he took the knife from under his pillow, his hand began to shake and his chest tightened.

He sunk to the floor as a flood of memories overtook him.

"_The pizza was great; thanks, Dad." Dean smiled as he and Sam walked out of the restaurant in front of their father._

"_It's not every day you turn fourteen, Son."_

_Sam scampered into the back of the Impala and Dean settled in the passenger seat. Once they got home, Dean helped his brother get ready for bed then joined John in the living room. The house was one of the nicer ones they'd lived in and the three Winchesters were fairly content in the small town. _

"_I have one more thing for you, Dean." John smiled. He pulled a burlap-wrapped package from next to the couch and handed it to his son._

_Dean untied the rope and removed a knife with a large, well-honed blade._

"_Dad –" Dean breathed as he examined it closely. "It's awesome! Thank you!"_

"_Tomorrow I'll show you how to use it."_

"_Cool." he continued to admire it._

_John put a hand on his shoulder. "Happy birthday, Dean."_

Dean looked at the knife through tears in his eyes. He remembered the first day of training with it and once he was proficient with it, he started keeping it under his pillow when he slept. He knew it was silly, but he always felt closer to his father when this knife was nearby.

Before he thought about what he was doing, Dean threw the knife across the room. It lodged in the wall and was still there when Sam walked in a few minutes later. Dean hadn't moved from his spot on the floor. Sam dropped the bag he was carrying and, after quickly surveying the room, rushed to his brother's side.

"Dean –"

He didn't answer and Sam glanced around the room again. He saw the knife in the wall and knelt down next to his brother. "Dean, was something here?"

Dean shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

Dean shook his head again and struggled to stand. He got as far as sitting on the edge of the bed; Sam stayed on the floor, but watched him carefully.

"Talk to me, man. What's going on?"

Dean ran a shaky hand over his face. "Please just leave me alone, Sam."

"Not this time, Dean." Sam said gently. "I've been ignoring all kinds of things for the last few weeks, but this –"

"Sam, please!" Dean exclaimed as he stood up and made his way to the bathroom.

He slammed the door and leaned against it. He was never supposed to show weakness in front of Sam. John had always been so adamant about Sam feeling safe and protected, and Dean knew if he wasn't in control of himself in front of Sam, he might not feel safe. He slid to the floor and covered his face in his hands.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed and took a more careful look around the room. He saw the sharpening stones on the table, but didn't see any knives. He moved the pillow, and seeing nothing underneath, he began looking for Dean's favorite knife. When he saw it sticking out of the wall, he felt cold. He pulled it out and looked at it for several minutes, without really seeing it.

Dean knew the longer he stayed locked in the bathroom, the harder it would be to come out. He should have just left the motel room completely and not come back until he was under control again. He started at himself in the mirror, not liking the haunted look to his eyes. After splashing cold water on his face and toweling off, he forced himself to open the door.

Sam was sitting at the table, carefully sharpening Dean's knife.

"Hey." he said as Dean crossed the room.

"Hey." he pulled his jacket on.

"Where are you going?"

"Out for a while. I need some air." Dean looked at him. "Be careful with that."

Sam put the knife down. "I really wish you'd tell me what happened –"

"I'm okay, Sammy. I am. I just – I just need some space. I'll be back soon."

The younger brother watched Dean walk out the door, feeling powerless to do anything else.

oooOOOooo

Dean pulled into the first parking lot he found and turned off the engine. He sat in the car and just stared out of the window, both hands on the steering wheel. He had no idea how he was going to make things better this time. He didn't know how to make himself feel better – how could he ever live with what John did? And what about Sam's nightmares?

As his head spun with these questions and more, Dean laid his head on the back of his seat. Even when John was missing and the brothers were on their own, Dean felt like he had his father as back-up. That probably wasn't true, since he never even returned a phone call, but that's how Dean had felt. And even though they hadn't seen Caleb or Pastor Jim for years, he knew they would drop everything they were doing if the Winchesters needed them.

But the demon killed their best friends and somehow had taken their father. The brothers really were on their own now and Dean didn't know what to do. How could he take care of Sam when he couldn't take care of himself?

He knew perfectly well that Sam wasn't a child anymore and didn't need Dean to take care of him. He was taller than Dean, he was broader than Dean, and he'd spent almost four years in college. He didn't wear footy pajamas anymore and didn't need Dean to tuck him in at night. But Dean didn't see any of these things. All he saw was his little brother; the baby who had been put in his arms as their house burned behind them. He saw the child who needed bedtime stories to fall asleep. He saw the little boy John left in his care when he had to go out of town on a hunt. Sam was more than an able partner in their work, and Dean knew that, but taking care of him was a hard habit to break.

Before John died, he told Dean to look out for Sammy. How could he do that when he didn't know how to look out for himself?

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**Shattered**

**Chapter 3**

Disclaimer: I still don't own them, but if I did, they'd hug once in a while.

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews and messages. I love the feedback and it helps to know if I'm headed in the right direction.

oooOOOooo

_I play with a fear of letting people down. That's what motivates me - **Jonny Wilkinson**_

oooOOOooo

There was no sign of Dean an hour later and Sam was worried. He started to dial his brother's cell phone number more than once, but didn't expect Dean to answer. He paced around the room for another half an hour, then grabbed his phone again. He was about to dial it when Dean walked through the door. His skin was pale and he wouldn't look directly at Sam, but at least he was in the room.

"Dean –"

Dean slipped out of his jacket and sat in the nearest chair. He rubbed his face with both hands, then looked at his brother. "I don't know what to do."

"About what?" Sam asked, surprised by the statement. He hadn't actually expected Dean to say anything to him.

"Everything. I don't know what to do about anything."

Sam hesitated for only a moment before moving closer.

"Since Dad died, nothing is right. Even the hunting – I – " Dean hung his head.

"Dean." Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why do you always put so much on yourself?"

Dean looked at him, silently pleading that Sam figure out the answer and not make him say it.

"Look, man, no one is asking you to make all the decisions here." Sam said gently. "You don't have to be in charge. "

Dean looked away and Sam decided to take another tack before he shut down completely.

"You know, I miss him, too, and –"

"It's my fault."

"What?" Sam was confused.

"He's dead because of me. We both know it."

"I'm not blaming you. If Dad really made a deal with the demon, that was all him. You know he always had his own way of doing things."

Dean nodded, still not looking at him.

"I don't know what Dad had in mind when he made that deal." Sam continued. "Other than he did it to save you."

"But why?" Dean whispered. "I'm not worth it."

"What?" Sam asked, matching his brother's quiet tone.

Dean only shook his head.

"You're worth it to me." Sam said. "You've always taken care of me. Dean, my first memories are of you; helping me with baths, reading me stories before bed, tucking me in. You're the one who trained me with the weapons. You saved my ass more than once. Hell, man, if you hadn't come back to the apartment, I would have died with Jessica."

Sam waited while Dean sat quietly. A moment later he reached out and put a hand on Dean's arm. "You're worth it to me."

Slowly, Dean turned to face his brother. Sam had never seen such pain and confusion in his eyes. He didn't know what he could say that would make anything better for Dean so he sat quietly, his hand resting on his brother's arm.

"What have you been dreaming about, Sammy?" Dean asked a few moments later, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sam was taken aback by the turn in the conversation, but he'd do anything to get Dean to talk. He hesitated, trying to figure out how much to say.

"The dream started out to be about Dad." Sam said. "But it's about you now."

"About me?"

"It's just some scrambled images; I don't know what's happening. But –"

"But what?" Dean prompted; his tone still quiet.

"The feeling." Sam shook his head. "What you're feeling in the dream is just – it's overwhelming."

"I don't understand. Is this in a hunt or --?"

"I don't know. Like I said, it's scrambled images." Sam said. "But I know it's you. And I know you're in pain. Emotional pain."

Dean only looked at him.

"Kind of like what's coming from you now." Sam added quietly.

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Dean whispered.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't want anything, except for you to talk to me about what you're feeling. Let me help."

Dean stood up and walked across the room. He turned to Sam, his back against the far wall. "Dad is dead because of me and I don't know how to live with that. What was he thinking, Sammy? That I'd be okay with it?"

"I don't know, Dean. But I know that he wanted you to live. Maybe he had something else in mind when he made that deal, but if nothing else, he wanted you to live."

"He always said nothing came before killing the demon. That's what I grew up thinking, you know? And then all of a sudden –"

"All of a sudden he realized family was more important than killing the demon. _You_ were more important." Sam said, his voice cracking.

"I really wish we had a gig."

"Why?" Sam looked at him, confused.

"Because I could really go for killing something evil right now."

Sam couldn't help but smile.

The younger brother knew that things were still not right; not with Dean and not between them. But they'd taken an important step and he was content with that. Later, they decided to stay in Omaha for another night, but instead of going out they picked out a movie from the pay per view menu and shared a pizza.

As they got ready for bed, Sam couldn't help but notice that Dean didn't put the knife under his pillow like he'd been doing for years, but he chose not to say anything about it.

oooOOOooo

Sam was startled awake as the dream faded away. As was becoming normal, he'd seen his father suffering some unseen torture and crying out in pain. In the next flash, he could feel, more than see, his brother. Dean was surrounded by darkness; something so black that nothing could penetrate it. Sam knew he was nearby only because he could feel pain coming from him in waves. He didn't know how he felt Dean's pain, but Sam was sure it was something his brother would want to keep hidden from him.

He glanced at the other bed and saw it was empty. He listened for noise coming from the bathroom, but the only thing he heard was the traffic coming from the nearby freeway. Tossing the blanket aside, he got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Seeing the door open, he turned and looked around the room. Dean's jacket was gone and so were his boots. He looked at his watch; it wasn't even six o'clock yet.

Sam walked to the window and looked into the parking lot. The Impala was still where they'd left it, but Dean wasn't in sight. Assuming he'd only gone for breakfast or coffee, Sam decided to take a shower. He was still on edge from the dream and hoped the warm water would relax him.

Dean had intended to get coffee and doughnuts, but got only as far as the picnic table at the end of the motel property. The morning was chilly, but the light fog was already burning off. It would be a good day for driving and Dean wanted to just get on the road. He'd been tempted to wake Sam and load their gear into the car, but he couldn't bring himself to do it because he knew Sam had trouble falling asleep the night before.

"_Where's your brother?"_

_Dean looked at his father as he approached the picnic table carrying a couple of bags from a nearby fast food restaurant._

"_On the swings." _

_John glanced over to the playground before setting the bags in front of Dean. "What are you reading?"_

_The ten year old pushed the rituals book he'd borrowed from Pastor Jim toward his father. _

"_Dean –"_

"_Pastor Jim said I could keep it for a while." Dean said quickly. "He said it was a grown-up book, but I know I can understand it."_

"_I'm sure you can, Dean," John said as he thumbed through the pages. "But why are you trying?"_

"_I want to learn all this stuff so I can help you."_

_John felt his eyes sting for a moment. "You do help me. You help by watching out for Sammy."_

"_I know you said I was too young to hunt with you, but if I learn everything I can now, I'll be ready when I'm old enough."_

_John sat down next to him. "You want to hunt?"_

"_Sure. You said what you do is important; that it helps people. I want to be like you. I want to help people." Dean looked at him sideways. "And I want to help find what killed Mom."_

_John handed the book back to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Dean didn't need his father's words. He could feel his love and pride with just that one touch._

Dean looked toward the playground with tears in his eyes. He hadn't consciously seen it until just now and as he stared toward the swings, he could almost feel John's hand on his shoulder.

He managed to shake himself free of the memory and continued to the mini-mart down the street. When he got back to the room, he found Sam dressed and at the computer.

Sam looked up when he heard the door open. Dean walked in without a word and put a large cup of coffee in front of him, along with a box of doughnuts.

"Thanks." Sam said.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed across from him, hoping Sam wouldn't ask him any questions. He didn't want to talk about his walk down memory lane and was tired of lying to his brother to avoid answering his questions.

"I found something that might be interesting." Sam said after taking a sip of the coffee. "A town about three hours from here; there's a fall festival that's been happening for about a hundred years. It supposedly started out as a morale boost for the town after a few bad years of crops and that was their last bad year. Remember that scarecrow thing we did last year? That gave me an idea and I started looking for missing persons in the area. I've found at least one disappearance every year for the last ten."

"We should check into it." Dean said, distractedly.

Sam glanced at him. "The festival takes place next week."

Dean reached for a doughnut, though he didn't appear to actually want it. He set it on a napkin and commenced tearing into pieces, none of which made it to his mouth.

"You were gone for quite a while." Sam said. He sat back in the chair and took another sip of the coffee. Dean didn't say anything when he reached for a piece of the doughnut.

"Was I?"

"Yeah. I took a shower, got dressed and I know I've been working here for over half an hour. The mini-mart isn't that far away and the coffee is still hot. Where'd you go before you went there?"

Dean shrugged, tearing the doughnut chunks into smaller pieces. "Just wandering around."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"We were in bed pretty early last night. But I noticed you tossed and turned before finally nodding off."

"So you were still awake when I fell asleep?"

Dean knew Sam was trying to zero in on something and all he wanted to do was run from the room. He needed a physical release or he felt like he'd go crazy.

"You know what I saw when I was wandering?" Dean asked. "A gym. It's been a while since we've had a decent workout. We could spend a little time there before heading off to the haunted festival."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Sure."

After finishing the coffee, they packed their gear into the car and Dean drove down the street to the gym he'd seen from the mini-mart window. Sam was surprised to see some state of the art equipment inside the run-down building and it was all but deserted. After talking to the sole employee and paying the fee, they changed into sweats and tennis shoes. They worked on some weight training together, then Dean wandered off to a punching bag hanging across the room.

Sam kept an eye on him while continuing his own workout, but a few minutes later he went to the next room to see what equipment was in there.

Dean saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned toward the window. For a moment, he thought he saw John standing on the sidewalk and he completely missed the bag with the next punch. He couldn't get his father out of his head; the more he tried, the stronger the next memory. Each memory resulted in a harder punch to the bag until he was out of breath and his hands ached.

Sam called his brother's name as he rushed toward him. He'd been watching Dean for the last few minutes, feeling every blow to the bag. Dean seemed not to hear him and continued to pummel the bag. Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away.

"Come on, man." he said. "I think the bag is crying uncle."

"Let me go, Sam." Dean growled.

"I don't think so. Let's hit the showers."

"Sam –"

Sam continued to push him toward the locker room, but Dean pulled away and shrugged his shoulders. "I can walk on my own."

Sam let Dean ignore him as they showered, but blocked his way to his locker. He was quite a bit bigger than his brother and rarely used the size difference to his advantage, but after seeing Dean torture the punching bag knew he had to do something. Dean sat down on the bench in front of the lockers.

"Let it go." he growled.

"Not this time. Let me see your hands."

"I'm fine."

"Let me see your hands." Sam insisted.

Dean looked at him, intentionally keeping his hands out of sight. His eyes widened as Sam grabbed one of his wrists and he was surprised at the strength in his brother's grip. He probably could have pulled away, but something kept him from trying.

"This could use some antibiotic cream." Sam said, trying not to show too much concern over the scratched and already bruised knuckles. "There's some in the first aid kit; we'll take care of it when we get back to the car."

Dean didn't say anything, but he did pull away from his brother. Sam stepped from the locker; Dean gathered his things and a few minutes later they were in the parking lot. Sam pulled the first aid kit from the trunk when they tossed their duffels in. Dean turned away, heading for the driver side of the car.

"Dean –"

"I'm fine, Sam."

"You beat your hands to hell, Dean. I'm surprised there's no swelling. Just put the cream on, okay?"

Dean sighed. "Fine."

They'd been in the car for at least five minutes without moving. After Dean rubbed the cream on his knuckles, refusing to admit, even to himself, that it was already helping, he stared quietly through the windshield. Sam waited patiently, hoping that Dean would open up to him. As the minutes ticked by, he became less hopeful.

"I don't want to check out that festival." he said quietly.

Sam looked at him. "Okay."

"I want to go home."

"Home? What do you mean?"

Sam didn't remember ever having a real home. As children they would spend, at most, a few months in the same town, but there was nowhere they'd ever really considered home. Except for Lawrence. Dean used to occasionally call Lawrence home when talking about where he'd spent the first four years of his life.

"I can't do this right now, Sam. I can't concentrate on hunting. Hell, I can't concentrate on anything." Dean looked at him, his eyes pleading. "Nothing is making sense, Sammy."

"Dean, man, where ever you want to go; whatever you want to do. Just – just don't shut me out any more, okay?"

Sam thought he saw Dean nod, but he couldn't be sure. He settled back in the seat as Dean started the car and pointed them in the direction of Lawrence. It hadn't been that long ago that Dean tried to resist Sam's insistence they visit their mother's grave. Soon after her death, a stone was put in the cemetery by an uncle neither one of them had ever met. They didn't know if they had any family left in town, but Sam was pretty sure Dean wasn't going there looking for long-lost relatives. He didn't know exactly what was pulling his brother to their hometown, but he would follow Dean into Hell if that's where his brother wanted to go.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**Shattered**

**Chapter 4**

See previous chapters for disclaimer.

A/N: I promise; something is gonna happen. Really, it is! Thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this section.

oooOOOooo

_Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking - **Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**_

oooOOOooo

Dean drove directly to a motel and Sam went to the office to secure a room.

"What do you want to do?" Sam asked as they took their bags inside.

The older brother barely spoke on the drive from Omaha and didn't seem interested in talking much now. He glanced at Sam, looking somewhat embarrassed, and moved across the room from him. Dean couldn't explain it, but as much as he valued his brother's presence and needed to be near him, sometimes it hurt too much to be with him. He knew Sam wanted him to talk, but he couldn't explain things any better than he already had. But not only that, he was afraid if he started, the dam would break and he'd never be able to put it back together.

"Would you mind if I just took off for a while?" Dean asked quietly as he stared out of the window.

Sam didn't think that was such a good idea, but he knew it was nearly impossible to hold Dean anywhere he didn't want to be. He also knew, though, that Dean could almost never deny him anything he asked for. He thought about it for a moment, but didn't think the time had yet come to play that card.

"Of course not." he answered simply.

Dean pulled the keys from his pocket. He paused at the door. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"Don't worry. I have the book I bought – and the computer. I'll be fine."

"I'll be back in time to grab something for dinner. Do you need money? Or anything out of the car?"

Sam looked at him, somewhat concerned. "No, I'm good."

Dean seemed about to say something, but only nodded and opened the door. "I've got my phone, okay?"

"Dean –"

"I'll be back in a little while." he said and quickly left the room.

Sam moved to the window and watched as Dean walked the few feet to the Impala. He wasn't moving in the same self-assured way that Sam was used to seeing and that made him very sad.

Dean started the car, but hesitated before backing out of the parking space. He didn't have to look toward their room to know that Sam was watching him. And he didn't need to see the expression on his brother's face to know he was worried.

oooOOOooo

There was nothing in Lawrence that felt familiar. Not long after Mary's death, John took his boys and left town and Dean swore he would never come back. He didn't remember much about the night Mary died, but he remembered enough. He could still sometimes feel the heat of the fire on his four year old his face as he stood in the front yard with baby Sammy in his arms. He remembered seeing the bedroom window explode and if John hadn't run out of the house in that exact moment to grab the boys, they would have been hurt or worse.

Dean also remembered the arguments between his father and his former business partner, Mike. He and his wife took the broken family in, but once John started talking about how some _thing_ killed Mary, their relationship deteriorated. Dean didn't understand what the fights were about, but he remembered being scared. He didn't know if his memory was true or not, but he had a vague recollection of John fighting with someone – maybe Mike – about the boys. It could easily just be one of the nightmares that plagued him for weeks after the fire, but Dean thought someone had tried to take him and Sammy away from their father. He never asked John about it, but he always wondered if that was why John loaded them into the car in the dead of night and never looked back.

After driving aimlessly for a little while, Dean found himself at the cemetery. When they came to visit Mary's grave not long after John's death, Dean had refused to move much past the car. He didn't want to understand why it was so important for Sam to visit a grave they both knew was empty. And even if it wasn't, their mother wasn't there. When they came to town last year, after Sam's premonitions about the family living in their old house, Mary appeared to them and apparently sacrificed herself to get rid of the poltergeist that had been harassing the young family.

Just like last time he was here, Dean leaned against the car and stared at the gravestone. This time, though, he forced himself to go forward and to stand near the stone. He set an unsteady hand on the top, feeling the cool marble on his skin. He could barely remember what his mother looked like, but he could remember the way she smelled. Even now, that memory was strong. He took a deep breath, almost hoping to catch the scent.

"Dean Winchester."

He jumped at the sound of his name and whirled around to see a short, black woman standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I knew I'd find you here." she said.

"Missouri –"

"Well? Come on, boy. Take me home where we can talk in private."

Not even thinking about it, and without a word, Dean followed her toward the Impala.

oooOOOooo

Missouri Mosley was a psychic and was the first person to introduce John to the supernatural world. As she explained to the boys when they first met the year before, she pulled the curtain aside for him. She didn't know what killed Mary, but she felt the evil still in the house when John took her there not long after the fire.

Dean drove to her house from memory, avoiding the route that would take them past the house where he spent his first four years. He wasn't sure if that was because of his first memories there, or because of what happened last year. Sam was almost killed and seeing his mother again….

Inside, Dean sat on the couch where Missouri indicated and she hung her purse on a coat tree. She didn't say a word to Dean, but came back to the living room a few minutes later with two mugs of hot chocolate. He took the one she handed to him and she sat down next to him.

"You knew we were coming." Dean said. It wasn't a question.

"I did." she said.

Dean took a sip of the cocoa and flinched. "You put whiskey in here?"

"Just a drop." she smiled at him sideways. "Or two."

"I'm sorry about your daddy." Missouri said after a few minutes of silence.

Dean nodded, not looking at her. "Thanks."

"It's not going very well, is it?"

"No. Not really."

"Not for your brother either."

"I know." Dean whispered. He was staring straight ahead and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He felt cold and the warmth of the mug in his hands was comforting. Holding the mug also kept his hands from shaking.

"_It's time to go."_

"_Just a couple more minutes, Daddy! Please?"_

"_It's freezing out here, Dean." John laughed._

_Dean jumped from the swing as John knelt down to adjust the hat on his little head. They walked to the car in the lot across the street from the park, John's hand resting lightly on his three-year old son's shoulder. _

"_Will Mommy be home when we get there?"_

"_No. Remember she's visiting her friend until tomorrow."_

"_Oh yeah." Dean said with an exaggerated nod. "It's just us men tonight. Hey! Can we get pizza?"_

"_Sure." John said. "And we can watch the movie Mommy got from the video store before she left."_

_Dean ran to the car. "Hurry, Daddy! We have to get the pizza!"_

_John laughed and hurried his step._

_When they got home, he helped Dean out of the winter wear and set him at the kitchen table while he made some hot cocoa using Mary's recipe and tricks. When it was ready, he filled two mugs and joined his son at the table._

"_This will warm you up."_

"_Marshmallows, Daddy!"_

_John smiled. "Oh yeah! How could I forget marshmallows?"_

_Dean rolled his eyes. "Beats me."_

"I'm sorry, Honey, I don't have any marshmallows."

Dean looked at Missouri, surprised. He'd never get used to her being able to get into his head that way.

"So." she took another sip from her mug before setting it on the coffee table in front of them. "Why did you decide to come back here?"

"I don't really know. It just seemed like the thing to do." he turned away. "And maybe I wanted to talk to you."

"What about?"

Dean shrugged, tears in his eyes. "I don't really know that, either."

Missouri was almost knocked over by the pain coming from Dean. She wanted to hug him, or at least put a hand on his arm, but she was sure he'd retreat and maybe not come back.

"You know, when Sammy was little, we'd have hot chocolate together."

Missouri waited for him to continue. It took a moment, but he did.

"It was usually when Dad was off on a hunt. Sometimes Sammy would have a hard time falling asleep when he was gone. Bedtime stories didn't always work, but hot chocolate usually did the trick. We'd sit at the kitchen table in whatever dump we were living in and we'd drink it and talk about all kinds of things."

"And now?"

Dean knew what she meant, but he didn't answer.

"He wants to help you, you know."

Missouri usually spoke to him with a little bit of attitude and her gentleness was welcome, but confusing. Dean nodded. "I know he does."

"You know you're both welcome here any time, but I think you need to be with your brother."

Dean looked at her suddenly. "Why did he do it, Missouri?"

She had been expecting the question and wanted to have an answer for him, but the truth was even with her abilities she didn't know John any better than anyone else did. When John died, Missouri had been asleep. She'd been up late the night before and allowed herself the rare luxury of a late morning in bed. She sat bolt up and knew, immediately, what had disturbed her sleep and what John had done. She wanted to talk to Sam and Dean, but she knew they would come to her eventually. They had other things to do first.

"Dean." Missouri took a deep breath. "I don't know why your daddy did what he did. I know what you're thinking; he made a deal with that thing that killed your momma. You're right about that, too. I don't know all the details, but I know you're right."

"Why would he do it?" Dean whispered, his voice shaking.

"Why, to save you. Just like when you were here last year and your momma did what she did? That's what parents do, Honey. They sacrifice for their children."

Dean blinked away the tears.

"I need, him, Missouri. I wasn't ready for him to die – and Sammy –"

"Oh Dean. We're never truly ready for someone we love to die. But your daddy thought this was the best way to –"

"He should have just let me die. It was my time, not his."

Missouri looked at him and this time, she did reach out for him. He tensed, but he didn't pull away.

"John Winchester was pig-headed and never thought anyone but him was right about anything." she said almost angrily. Dean glanced at her for a moment. "But there was one thing about him that no one could deny. He loved you and your brother. He made a lot of mistake raising you, but he loved you. He did what he did for you. Now, I don't know what all his reasons might have been, but I do know that."

Dean took a long sip of the cocoa, savoring the whiskey.

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

**Shattered**

**Chapter 5**

Disclaimer: See previous chapters

A/N: Thanks to Kelli for her comma–hunting skills and to everyone who has read and reviewed up to now. I think I can accomplish everything I wanted to in one more chapter.

oooOOOooo

_Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive -- the risk to be alive and express what we really are- **Don Miguel Ruiz**_

oooOOOooo

Sam read for a while hoping to keep his mind off of his brother and it worked for about twenty pages of his new book. He tossed it aside and reached for the remote, but after flipping through the few channels the motel television received he turned it off and stood up. He paced for a few minutes before settling in front of the laptop, but was restless before it even booted up. After another few minutes of pacing, Sam reached for his cell phone. He scrolled through the names he had saved and paused on Missouri's number. He would definitely get in touch with her before they left Lawrence, but had an overwhelming feeling that now was not the time.

He decided to take a walk to try to relax, but he was two miles away from the motel before he had to admit that relaxing wasn't an option; at least not while Dean was gone and not until he'd figured out a way to help his brother.

Not that he was okay himself. Sam realized he was putting his own grief aside to be strong for Dean and knew that's exactly what Dean had done since Sam was born. He put everything aside to make sure his younger brother had what he needed; no matter what it was.

Sam had been walking nowhere in particular; just wandering from street to street. He looked around and found himself on the University of Kansas campus, across from the Wheaton Law Library. He'd always been able to lose himself in any library he'd ever been to and decided he had some time to kill until Dean might be back at the room.

oooOOOooo

"I'm worried about you, boy." Missouri began after she took the last sip from her mug.

Dean didn't say anything. He had moved from the couch to the window across the room. He was staring into the back yard, without really seeing.

"You listenin' to me?" she demanded.

"I'm listening." he said quietly.

"You got anything to say?"

"Not really."

"You tell me your daddy should have let you die and now tell me you got nothing to say? Dean Winchester –" she shook her head. "You better think of something to say."

Dean looked at her; his face twisted in anger. When she only stared at him, he turned back to the window.

"It was my time. The reaper was there naturally and he made a deal with the thing that killed –" Dean shook his head. "We gave up everything to kill that son of a bitch and he just makes a deal with it!?"

"You want to hit something, the wall is sturdy. But your hands look like they've already seen better days. And watch your mouth in my house."

Dean slammed the wall with an open hand. Missouri watched him as he hit the wall a few more times.

"Better?" she asked when he leaned against the wall instead of hitting it.

He ignored the question.

"Is that what you're really upset about?"

"What?"

"Not that John is dead, but that he made a deal with the demon."

"How could he?" Dean whirled and glared at the old woman. "How the hell could he make a deal with the thing that killed my mom? He took me and Sammy from here, from friends and family, and raised us in one dump after another. We never lived anywhere long enough to make friends and even if we did, he didn't let us because it was too important to keep the family business a secret. He taught us how to use weapons, how to fight and how to kill all kinds of stuff all the while looking for what killed Mom. We find it and he _deals_ with it? That makes our whole lives worthless!"

"Worthless? Boy, don't you get it? If your daddy thought your life was worthless, the last thing he would have done was make a deal to save you. You know how much he wanted to kill that demon and he gave all of that up for you. For _you_."

Tears sprang into Dean's eyes and he turned away again.

"I know you're mad, Dean. You beat the hell out of your car, you hit your brother and now –"

"Stop it! Get out of my head!" Dean screamed. "Leave me alone!"

A tear rolled down Missouri's cheek as she watched Dean. He slid down the wall to the floor, his face buried in his hands. She waited a moment, trying to decide how to best help him. She could feel the pain coming from him in waves, but in addition to pain there was fear. He didn't want her to touch him and if he could, he would have disappeared. She left the room and picked up the phone in the kitchen.

oooOOOooo

"Where is he?" Sam asked as soon as Missouri opened the door.

"What happened to your manners?"

Sam looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "Hi, Missouri."

"Oh never mind. Get in here." she moved aside to let him in the house. "He's in the living room. He hasn't moved or said a word since before I called you."

Sam looked toward the living room.

"Go ahead, Sam. He needs you." she touched his arm. "We'll talk about your nightmares later."

He swallowed hard and slowly walked into the next room. Dean was on the floor, his face covered in his hands and his elbows on his raised knees. He didn't hear Sam come in, and didn't move when the younger man sat down in front of him. Sam had never seen him this way and was more scared than he wanted to let on. His hands were shaking and he felt an overwhelming coldness in the pit of his stomach.

"Dean." he managed to say. His voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else.

His brother didn't respond.

"Come on, man. Look at me."

"Go away, Sam." Dean whispered.

Sam swallowed. It was taking a lot of energy to make any sounds, but he knew he had to get control of his voice.

"I'm not going anywhere." Sam said. "I'm always going to be here."

Dean seemed to fold into himself.

"I'm your brother. I'm always going to be your brother. I'm worried about you, man. You have to let me help."

Sam watched, but Dean didn't move.

"Dean." Sam said as he shifted to a slightly more comfortable position. "I need you. I feel guilty about how I treated him. I don't know what to do without your help."

Sam knew that in one way he was being cruel. Dean needed to heal, but he'd put all of his pain aside if Sam needed him to because Dean always put Sam first. That isn't what Sam really wanted, but hoped that his brother could at least push past his pain to see him.

"I can't, Sammy." Dean whispered. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. He had faced all kinds of monsters in his years as a hunter, but none of them were as frightening as watching what his brother was going through and hearing what he'd just said. He tentatively reached out to touch Dean's arm and became even more scared when Dean didn't so much as flinch. Their love for each other was obvious to anyone who cared to notice, but the Winchesters weren't the touchy-feely types. Dean especially disliked being touched in a kind or gentle way, and although he never turned away the occasional hugs from their father, Sam couldn't remember the last time the brothers shared even a simple touch.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. All Sam could think to do was sit where he was, with his hand resting on his brother's arm. Maybe all Dean needed was time to absorb Sam's presence. Maybe he would be able to gather his strength and be _Dean_ again. But those were pretty big maybes and Sam was scared that his brother was gone forever.

Everyone had a breaking point; even Dean Winchester. Was their father's death too much for him to handle? Was this finally what would break him; shatter him into pieces that would never be put together again?

Sam thought back to what Missouri told him when she called. Dean was angry about the deal their father purportedly made with the demon because it negated everything they'd done their entire lives, rendering them worthless. That isn't the way Sam felt. He understood what John did because of the choice he had to make when the demon was possessing John. Despite his father's order to shoot him in the heart, Sam couldn't do it. If he had pulled the trigger the demon would be dead, but so would John and that wasn't something Sam could live with. He'd been told his whole life that nothing came before killing the demon, but in his heart he knew his family came first. John, and especially Dean, came before the demon. Sam might have been able to follow his father's order had it not been for Dean's pleading. He begged Sam not to pull the trigger and there was nothing Sam wouldn't do for Dean.

When they were in the hospital after being t-boned by the semi truck, Sam and John had yet another fight. John told Sam if he had shot him, the demon would be dead and Dean would be alive. For a split second, Sam wished he'd followed the order. For just a moment, he hated his father that much. But he didn't follow the order; he followed his heart and Dean was alive, but broken. He had no idea how to fix this, but he knew he had to figure something out or he would lose his brother forever.

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

**Shattered**

**Chapter 6**

Disclaimer: See previous chapters

A/N: Thanks for keeping with me on this one. I appreciate the reviews and the private notes more than I can express. This is the last chapter; I hope it doesn't disappoint!

oooOOOooo

_A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it -** George Moore**_

oooOOOooo

What seemed like hours later, Dean finally looked at Sam. His eyes were red, but worse, there was a haunted look about them. His skin was pale and he still didn't move away from his brother or try to shake Sam's hand from his arm. Dean didn't speak; he only stared at Sam almost as if he was afraid to look away, afraid if he did that Sam would disappear.

"Hey." Sam said, trying to keep his voice calm, though he was anything but and he knew Dean had to feel his hand shaking.

"Why are you here?"

Sam looked confused. "Missouri called me."

Dean shook his head. "No, not here in this house. Here. With me. Why aren't you back in school?"

"It doesn't feel like the right place to be. We just lost our father, Dean. He and I fought a lot, and most of that was probably my fault, but I still loved him. Now he's gone; we're all we have left. I _want _to be with you."

Dean blinked.

"What?" Sam prompted gently.

"What did Missouri tell you?"

Sam didn't hesitate. "She told me what you said – about everything we've done being for nothing because of the deal Dad made."

Dean nodded and looked away.

"That isn't true." Sam said. "Dad didn't do it to hurt us. He did it to save you."

"But –"

"Don't, Dean. You don't think you're worth it, but you are. You're worth it to me and you're worth it to Dad. You were his perfect son." he anticipated Dean's interruption and continued without taking a breath. "You did what he wanted – what he _needed_ you do to. He loved you for that and he would have done anything to save you. I don't know what other options we might have had, but I've been thinking about this a lot. I don't think we had time to try more than one thing and Dad was sure this would work. He knew the demon could make sure you lived and that's why he didn't call anyone or try to figure out something else."

"There had to be another way."

"Maybe there was, Dean, but he was racing the clock. You almost died before you even got to the hospital and once more in the hospital – he didn't have time to screw around. And you know how Dad is. He didn't let me in on his plan because he's John Winchester and he makes the rules." Sam hadn't taken his eyes from his brother's face. "We've done important things, Dean. We've helped people and we've saved lives. We'll keep doing that while we figure out how to find and how to kill the demon. We'll do it for Mom, for Jessica and for Dad."

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Sammy." Dean looked at him with such helplessness in his eyes that it made Sam ache. "I wake up every morning and it's all I can do to get out of bed. I don't have the strength."

Sam didn't anticipate that. He knew his brother was in the middle of a crisis, but he didn't realize it was this bad. How could Dean not want to hunt anymore? That's all he'd ever done; all he ever _wanted _to do. If Sam hadn't been afraid before, this would have been what caused it.

Dean had always been able to read Sam so well when they were kids. Their years apart damaged the ability to a certain extent, but it wasn't destroyed. And now Dean looked at Sam as if he could read his thoughts as easily as the words on a page. "I don't mean to scare you, Sam, but I'm scared myself. I've never felt like this and I don't know what to do about it."

"You talk to me. You let me in." Sam said, barely above a whisper. "I can't fix this for you, but I can listen and I can help come up with ideas. And sometimes talking helps all by itself. You always let me lean on you. Ever since I can remember, you were my strength. I can do that for you now. You just have to let me."

Tears formed in Dean's eyes and he smirked. "I don't know how to that either, Sammy."

Sam put his hand on the back of Dean's neck and gently pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. They sat like that, eyes closed, for several minutes and it surprised Sam when he felt his brother's arms around him. Sam returned the embrace, whispering encouragement and promises that it would be okay.

The sudden flood of emotion coming from her living room nearly knocked Missouri from the kitchen chair. She was trying hard not to eavesdrop on the brothers, physically or psychically, but it was difficult. She stood carefully and took her coat from near the back door before she left the house.

oooOOOooo

Sam had expected Dean to become silent and distant, but he didn't. His mood was in no way light, but nor was it morose. He seemed to have taken some solace and strength from the conversation and even the embrace didn't cause him any embarrassment. He wasn't ready for an immediate repeat, but he seemed to be more _Dean_ than he had for quite a while.

Missouri knew when to come back and when she did, she had Jenny and her children in tow. Jenny moved into the old Winchester home the previous year after the death of her husband, and after dreaming about a danger they were facing, Sam and Dean returned to Lawrence for the first time in over twenty years to help her. The poltergeist that had been tormenting them managed to get a hold of Sam and pin him to the wall; it was Mary's spirit that saved him and exorcised the poltergeist from the house.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam whispered to her in the kitchen as he helped gather drinks for everyone.

"I do. You and your brother need to spend some time with some normal people for a change. Jenny and her kids come over here a couple times a month for dinner and sometimes I baby-sit in the evenings." Missouri smiled conspiratorially. "She's gone out on a couple of dates."

"Good for her. But Dean – right now – "

"Take a look outside."

Sam looked at her, confused, before he turned his eyes to the window. Dean and Jenny's kids were in the backyard.

"Are they playing tag?" Sam asked, disbelieving.

"Looks like it." Missouri smiled.

Sam shook his head. "I'll be damned."

"Now take those sodas outside while I visit with Jenny for a little while. You're all staying for dinner." she looked at him. "And you're not leaving town until we've talked about your dream."

oooOOOooo

After the game of tag was over, Sam and Dean brought the two kids inside where they had hot chocolate – without the whiskey – and watched a video Jenny had brought with them. Sam watched more of his brother than he did the movie. He hadn't seen Dean laugh and seem so carefree in a long time.

Jenny and Missouri cooked dinner, with Sam intermittently offering to help. Each time he was shooed from the kitchen, but Missouri finally made him happy by letting him set the table. After dinner, it was Dean who insisted on cleaning up and there was another round of tag outside before Jenny took the kids home.

"You two are welcome to stay here tonight." Missouri said.

"Thanks, but we've already got the room." Sam smiled.

He watched as Dean came from the yard with the empty soda cans they'd left on the porch earlier. The confident swagger was back; he seemed relaxed and comfortable. Once in a while, when it was just the two of them, Dean was at ease. He was able to let go of all the responsibility he felt and just _be_. He was never like that around other people, yet that's how he'd been for hours. And not only with the kids, but with Jenny. Dean wasn't good at small talk. He didn't like it, but used it for work when he had to. He talked to Jenny with apparent ease more than once during the day.

Missouri put a hand on his arm. "He's going to be okay. Just be his brother and understand him."

oooOOOooo

"Hey, Sam?" Dean said as he came from the bathroom in the motel room later.

Sam looked away from the television. Dean sat across from him, on the edge of his own bed.

"About earlier –"

"It's okay, man –" he stopped when Dean held up a hand.

"Let me do this, okay?" he saw Sam nod and continued. "I know I'm pretty messed up right now and I'm sure that scares you. I'm sorry about that, but I really – I appreciate you sticking by me."

Sam looked at him and Dean lowered his eyes. The younger brother quickly went through things he could say, but he deiced to keep it simple. "You're welcome."

"And just because I'm not quite at my best right now doesn't mean you get to hide things from me."

Sam knew Dean meant his dream and only nodded.

"I mean it, Sammy." Dean said. He stood up and pulled the covers back without waiting for Sam's response.

oooOOOooo

Sam had no idea what to expect from the day when he opened his eyes. The day before had been intense and normally it took a whole lot less emotion to shut Dean down. He sat up and saw his brother sitting at the computer and sipping coffee. "Hey."

"Hey. There's more coffee."

Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "Thanks. How long have you been up?"

"Not long."

"What are you doing?"

"Going through some news stories."

"But yesterday you said –"

"And movie times."

Sam was confused. "What?"

"I was thinking we could stick around town for a few days; maybe go see a movie this afternoon."

"Yeah." Sam said, hesitantly. "Sure."

He took a shower and when he came back to the room, Dean was watching television.

"The car needs to be washed. You want to help?"

"Okay." he poured a cup of coffee. "Hey, Dean?"

Dean muted the television.

"Uh –" he turned away from his brother and took a sip from the cup. "You said I shouldn't hide things from you."

"Yeah." Dean said, nervously.

"I went for a walk yesterday and ended up on the UK campus."

"And?"

"Last night when I said school didn't seem like the right place right now – " he sat on the bed closest to Dean. "I walked around the campus and hung out in one of the libraries for a while. It was kind of cool being there."

"What are you saying?"

"I just – I just want you to know that I'm here, just like I told you. I don't want to go to school for now."

"For now." Dean looked at him. "But not for always. I know that, Sam."

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"Is there something else?"

"No. I just – I just thought I should tell you."

"Okay." Dean wasn't sure he was telling the truth, but suspected he was telling most of it. "You want to get out of here? We can find a car wash and then get something to eat. We need to do laundry, too"

"Yeah. Let's go."

oooOOOooo

The brothers spent the day running errands and wandering around town together. They went to a movie and on their way back to the motel, Missouri called Sam and invited them to dinner. He was surprised when Dean agreed.

Dean kept surprising him over the next couple of days. While they didn't spend every moment together, Dean's mood remained light and Sam believed it was sincere and not an act to make him feel better. He did some preventative maintenance on the car and, for a change, welcomed Sam's help. He even asked Sam to go to Mary's grave with him and afterward they had dinner with Jenny and the two children at their house.

Dean did all sorts of things, but none of them were related to hunting. He didn't even take the time to clean and inspect the weapons, though he did keep some nearby in the room. Sam didn't make a big deal out of it, but he noticed the knife John gave him no longer rested under Dean's pillow when he slept.

Sam knew it wouldn't last, but things seemed almost _normal._ Not Winchester normal, but plain and simple normal. He enjoyed the downtime and the conversations he and Dean were having with more frequency, but he was getting restless.

oooOOOooo

"What's wrong, Sam?" Missouri asked. They were sitting in her living room while Dean was outside giving her car an oil change. She knew he enjoyed working on cars and used it as an excuse to get them over to her house one afternoon.

"I'm worried about Dean."

"Why? He seems relaxed; happy even."

"I know. I had the dream again last night."

"Ah, the dream."

Sam looked at her knowingly. "You don't seem surprised."

"Well, I'm not. You gonna tell me about it?"

Sam leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face. "It starts out with Dad. He's somewhere horrible; being tortured. I can hear him screaming even after I wake up sometimes."

"Honey, there's no reason to believe that's what's really happening. There's no way of knowing where he is or what's going on."

"I know." Sam nodded. "But my premonitions are always centered around the demon and there's no reason _not_ to believe this one is the same thing."

"You said it starts out with your daddy. Then what happens?"

"It's changed a little bit. I used to just feel intense pain coming from Dean, I couldn't see him."

"And now?"

"Last night I saw him. In the same place as Dad. Not together, but in the same place." he looked at her, fear undisguised fear on his face.

"I can't tell you if your dream is a premonition or not." Missouri said, answering his unasked question. "But you're worried about your brother. You're feeling guilty and sad about your father. It makes sense that those feelings are strong enough to cause nightmares. The same kind of nightmares other people have."

"But I'm not other people."

"So what are you saying, Sam? The demon is after your brother?"

"We don't know what the demon wants. Maybe it is after him."

"You're afraid he made a deal of his own, aren't you?"

"He had the chance, but he told me he didn't do it."

"You don't believe him."

"Dad isn't back." Sam shrugged. "And that's the only deal he'd make."

"Is it?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not saying anything. I don't know if Dean made a deal or not. But I do know that your daddy isn't the only person he loves. And he isn't the only person he'd do anything for."

Sam's blood ran cold.

oooOOOooo

Sam bolted straight up, Dean's name on his lips. Without even thinking about it, Dean was at Sam's side, his hands on his brother's shoulders.

"It's okay, Sam."

Breathless, Sam looked at him, grabbing hold of his t-shirt.

"Tell me you didn't do it, Dean. Please, just tell me the truth. Please –"

Sam was nearly hysterical and Dean gripped his shoulders harder. "Calm down. Do what, Sammy?"

He gripped Dean's shirt tighter. "Tell me you didn't make a deal!"

Dean looked at him. "What?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Did you make a deal with a demon? Outside Lloyd's or anywhere else?"

"No, Sammy. I told you before, I didn't make a deal." he loosened his grip on Sam's shoulders. "Is that what you've been dreaming about?"

Sam looked away.

"I thought we decided you wouldn't hide anything from me."

"Yeah, that's what I've been dreaming about." Sam said after a moment. "You swear, you _promise_ you didn't –"

"I promise." Dean looked at him. "But I wanted to."

Sam watched as Dean struggled with what he wanted to say. He didn't realize he was still holding Dean's shirt with an iron grip.

"I miss him, Sam. I miss him and I'm mad as hell at him. I'd do almost anything to get him back, and to be perfectly honest, I don't care what happens to me."

Sam started to say something, but Dean talked over him. "But if I made a deal to bring him back, he'd kick my ass and we'd have more problems than we have now."

Sam looked at him skeptically. "You made no deal of any kind? Not even one involving me?"

Dean started to turn away, but Sam still held him fast.

"No deal of any kind. Tell me, Dean."

Dean averted his eyes for a moment, but then looked at his brother. "No deal of any kind. Not one about Dad, not one about you." he anticipated Sam's next question. "And not one involving me."

Satisfied, Sam let go of his shirt.

"If that's what you've been dreaming," Dean began as he stood up. "your radar is off."

Sam tossed the covers aside and trudged to the bathroom. He muttered something as he walked by, but Dean didn't understand it. He sat down at the table and rested his head in his hands. Sam wasn't as far off as Dean was leading him to believe and the older brother didn't know how much longer he could live with the lie he'd told Sam.

He didn't make a deal with a demon, but he did make a deal of sorts with John. And then when Sam asked him point blank if John had said anything to him before died, Dean lied. It was the only time in Sam's entire life that he told him a blatant lie and the guilt of that – and the secret John shared – was weighing heavily on him.

oooOOOooo

"When are you going to tell him?" Missouri asked.

"I hate it when you do that."

"I know." Missouri looked at him. "But you didn't answer my question."

They stood next to the Impala outside of their old house, having come to say goodbye to Jenny and the kids. It was easier to make one stop then two, so Missouri met them there. Sam was still inside.

"I don't know." Dean sighed. "Probably sooner rather than later though."

"You best be careful when you do it."

"I know."

She took his hand. Dean looked at her surprised, but didn't pull away. "How are you doing?"

"You don't know?" Dean smirked.

"Don't get smart with me, boy."

"I'm doing okay. Better anyway."

"It's easy to fall back into old habits."

"What does that mean?"

"You're going back on the road, back to hunting. Don't go back to being the big brother who keeps everything inside. Sam needs you, but he needs you to need him just as badly."

Dean looked toward the house as Sam walked out of the front door. Dean walked around to the driver side of the car and Sam said another goodbye to Missouri.

"Ready?" Sam asked as he looked at Dean over the car.

"Let's hit it." Dean said. He looked at Missouri and nodded almost imperceptibly.

They'd been in town for almost two weeks and Sam had been dream free for the last three nights. This was the longest they spent anywhere in a very long time; especially since not when working on a case.

Two days ago, Sam stumbled on information about a potential case in Montana that interested Dean enough to go check it out. After admitting his fear to Sam, he became more interested in their work again. It was in his blood and Missouri knew he would probably never be able to give it up completely. She also suspected that he somehow needed it. And for now, Sam needed it, too.

She stepped away from the car when Dean started the engine and watched as they drove away. She knew they'd be back, but for now, they were all right.

_FIN_


	7. Chapter 7

**Shattered**

**Epilogue**

Disclaimer: see previous chapter

A/N: I felt like I wimped out on the first ending to this story. I didn't push Dean as far as I'd planned to because I couldn't see him being honest with Sam about his feelings and not share John's secret. I also didn't have confidence in my ability to portray Dean as vulnerable as I thought he needed to be. So I thought I'd write an ending that pushed him into Hell and incorporate the secret into it. But that damn cliffhanger thwarted my plans and I ended up having to work twice as hard to make this happen.

But thanks to some inspiration and encouragement from Susan, someone I have quickly grown to like immensely, I decided to go where I originally wanted to. I think people will either hate it or love it; I don't see a lot of room in between. I also suspect some will not believe Dean to be true to character in this, but I can completely support my reasons for why I believe this is definitely Dean.

So… consider this an epilogue or maybe an alternate ending. Either way, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions.

oooOOOooo

_If a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in doubts, but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in certainties - **Francis Bacon**_

oooOOOooo

Nearly two months had passed since the Winchester brothers were in Lawrence. In that time, they had several open and honest conversations about their father and what they both wanted out of life. The second topic was actually quite vague for both of them.

From the moment he left Stanford with Dean following Jessica's death, Sam assumed he would go back to school some day. They'd find their father, kill the demon and life would resume. He wasn't sure when that changed for him or why. Maybe it had something to do with his visions, because with them, he would never truly be able to have a normal life. He sometimes wondered if, once the demon was gone, the visions would remain. There were times he wished they would go away because he was still scared of what they meant about him, but other times they felt like a part of him.

Dean had lived his entire life focusing on his family and the hunt; he never considered doing anything else. Despite what Sam said most days, he was sure his younger brother would try to have more of a normal life someday. He knew Sam still had an intense need to find and kill the demon, but he also wanted something else out of life. There was a time when Dean wanted to fiercely hold onto Sam and not let him go, but he was coming to understand that no matter what, they would always be a family. Even if they weren't physically together every day, nothing would ever truly keep them apart again. Sam told him something like that what seemed like a very long time ago, but then it had been too foreign an idea.

Sam looked out of the passenger side window as Dean parked outside their motel room. They'd gotten rid of a ghost that had been haunting a bed and breakfast in Vermont for the last fifty years and decided to wait until morning to leave the area.

"It's still kind of weird about that ghost." Sam said. "It was benevolent until a few months ago and then just turned evil? Why?"

Dean glanced at him. "Maybe it just got fed up and was ready to move on."

"Maybe."

"It doesn't really matter; it's gone. And I don't think the people it hurt will be too sad about that."

Sam nodded. One employee had been hurt falling down the stairs, swearing he'd been pushed. Another was burned in a grease fire that started on a stove that wasn't even on. A third was hit by flying glass when a window was blown inward on a perfectly clear and windless afternoon.

"I'm surprised you didn't take Marta up on her offer to spend the night at the b&b." Sam grinned as he and Dean got out of the car. "She was definitely interested in you."

Dean glared at him over the top of the car. Sam laughed and headed for the room. Marta, the owner of the bed and breakfast, got their name from someone else the brothers had helped and she was probably old enough to be their grandmother. She practically adopted Dean the moment she saw him.

Sam was already sitting on his bed when Dean walked into the room.

"It's too bad we don't have any milk."

"Let it go, dude." Dean sighed as he flopped down on his own bed.

"You could have stopped at that grocery store. I would have run in –"

"Sam."

"You could have just parked at the curb –"

"Sam!" Dean growled.

"Come on, man. She made you _cookies_. You can't eat cookies without milk."

Dean threw a pillow at him. Sam caught it, laughing. He lay back on the bed, his head resting on both pillows, reaching for the television remote.

"This blows." Dean grumbled a few minutes later when Sam had gone through all the channels and found nothing interesting on. "Hey, let's go check out that bar down the road."

"You go ahead. I'm tired."

Dean looked at him. "Nah. I'm not really in the mood. Let's just turn in. We can get an early start in the morning."

Sam kicked off his shoes. "Any idea where we're headed?"

Dean was about to say something when his cell phone started to ring. He looked at the caller ID. "It's Bobby."

Bobby Singer had been one of John's contacts. He'd been the one to introduce the boys to the Devil's Trap that they were able to snare Meg in, and they stayed with him after John's death while Dean rebuilt the Impala.

Sam sat up as Dean answered the phone. Hearing only Dean's side of the conversation, he couldn't quite tell what was going on, but he did understand they'd be leaving in the morning and headed toward Bobby's place.

Dean was pale when he put the phone on the bedside table. Sam leaned forward. "What is it?"

"Dad's truck – another hunter found it and brought it to him."

John's truck had been left at the warehouse where he'd gone to turn over the fake Colt to Meg. After finding out the gun was not genuine, he was chased, but he would have gotten away had Meg not thought ahead and flattened the truck's tires. The boys set out to rescue him from the town of Salvation where he was being held and Bobby went about trying to get the truck back. It apparently was stolen from the warehouse, and even though there were a lot of important things to focus on, Bobby recognized they needed to keep the truck away from the police or anyone else who might try to get into the weapons locker.

"Was it in tact?" Sam asked quietly, not liking the look on his brother's face.

"The weapons are still there. Bobby said the lock took a beating, but it held."

"What about his other stuff?"

"I don't know, Sam." he looked at his brother. "I'm gonna go out and get that drink now."

Sam nodded. "I'll come with you."

The brothers walked to the bar a few blocks away. They sat at a table and stared at nothing in particular, each lost in his own thoughts. Dean downed a shot of tequila before nursing a beer. Sam was only half-way through his when they decided to hit the road.

oooOOOooo

"Dean." Sam glanced at his brother.

"I'm fine." Dean said, staring straight ahead. His tone softened. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Sam said, not sounding sure of his answer. "But it's weird, ya know?"

"Yeah."

"You really okay?"

Dean turned in the passenger side so he could see Sam more clearly. "I think so. I mean, like you said, it's weird. It's been months since Dad died; we looked for the truck, Bobby's had people out looking for it. It's weird that it showed up, I guess."

Sam tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"What, Sammy?"

He shrugged.

"Sam –"

"There might be some of his stuff, other than his weapons, in the truck. I thought all we had left were a couple pictures we've managed to hold onto and the dog tags we left at Mom's grave."

"It doesn't matter what trinkets we have, Sammy. We have things that are more important."

Sam flinched slightly when Dean put a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at his brother and managed a slight smile.

oooOOOooo

Dean stared at the truck from Bobby's porch. He knew Sam was inside the house, pouring over Bobby's extensive library, in an attempt to avoid what they'd come here to do. On the road, they decided to clean out the truck and let Bobby sell it. It was a hard decision to make and even though they had no use for another vehicle, neither one had quite come to terms with it.

Shortly after they arrived, Dean inspected the truck while Sam watched from a short distance away. He was surprised the weapons box was in tact, even though it was severely damaged. Bobby had to completely detach it from the truck bed, nearly destroying the locker and the bed in the process. He managed to get it open shortly before the brothers got there, but neither one of them had the energy to go through it yet.

Dean was surprised by his own reluctance to deal with the truck, but he was more worried about Sam. Of course that wasn't unusual since he'd put his younger brother's needs before his own from the moment Sam was brought home from the hospital as a baby. A few months ago, this would be something left to fester without discussion, but both brothers were making an effort to communicate more with each other. Dean wasn't always happy about it, but he knew it was important to Sam and, if pushed, would admit it their new openness felt good to him.

"Hey." Bobby came out of the house and stood next to Dean.

"Sam still with the books?"

"Yeah. You all right?"

Dean shrugged. "All right enough."

"You know you boys are welcome to stay here for as long as you want, but ain't nothin' gonna get that truck cleaned out unless you do it."

"I know."

Bobby glanced at him. "'Course I could do it and box it all up for you. I doubt there's much in it, anyway."

"Thanks, but no. We should do it."

"The offer's there."

"Thanks."

Bobby laid a quick hand on his shoulder, then went back into the house. Dean sighed and followed a moment later. He stood across the room from Sam, watching him as he sat behind a dusty desk. His younger brother was in his element whenever he was around books and it was almost scary to observe the way he practically absorbed the words. There was never any doubt that Sam was smart, but Dean was never jealous of him. Even when they were kids and Sam could do Dean's math homework better than he could, all he felt was pride.

Dean pushed himself from the door frame he'd been leaning against and called his brother's name as he walked across the room. He saw Sam close his eyes for a moment before looking toward him.

"It's not doing any good to put it off." Dean said simply.

"I know."

"Come on –"

Sam looked away, clearly embarrassed. When he looked back at Dean a moment later, there were tears in his eyes. "I can't, man."

"Sam," Dean pushed aside some of the clutter and sat on a corner of the desk. "I really just want to get it over with. We could let Bobby do it, but it's our responsibility."

"I know; I just –" Sam looked at him helplessly. "I didn't think it would feel this way."

"It's okay." Dean said, immediately slipping into the familiar role of big brother. "I'll get it started and maybe you can come out in a few minutes. Knowing Dad, there won't be much there."

Sam nodded, feeling very much like he was letting his brother down. He watched as Dean left the room. He knew Dean wasn't angry, but thought maybe he should be and wondered if he would be if the roles were reversed. For as long as Sam could remember, Dean had taken care of the details. When John would leave them alone to go off on a hunt, Dean made sure Sam had food. He made sure Sam's homework got done and the boy got to bed on time. After a moment, Sam stood up and began to pace around the room. He felt trapped, like he needed to run, but he only paced faster.

He felt guilty and knew if he let Dean take on this burden alone, he would never get rid of the feeling. It hadn't been too long ago that he wasn't sure Dean would ever recover from their father's death; his brother was lower than he'd ever seen and he never wanted to see that again. Sam had been intent on doing for Dean what he'd always done; be the strength. He pushed away his own pain in order to make sure Dean got what he needed and at a time when Dean needed him most, he was hiding in a cluttered room surrounded by dusty books.

Before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, Sam headed for the door. He was stunned by what he saw when he got closer to the truck and his blood ran cold.

oooOOOooo

When Dean left Sam inside, he stood on the porch staring at the truck for several minutes.

It's just a truck, he told himself, and you've faced worse than this. As he moved forward, however, he doubted that statement. This was different than the paranormal creatures he'd seen and battled over the years. It was worse than watching his father die and it was harder than standing near his father's burning body. This was John's truck.

Dean touched the passenger side door handle, not making any move to pull the door open. He saw an image of his father sitting in the driver's seat, smiling at him and vigorously shook his head to clear the vision, suddenly longing for his brother's presence.

He understood why Sam didn't want to help with this chore. Sam barely made it through burning John's body and was holding back tears when he asked if their father had said anything before he died. Dean suddenly felt weak as he remembered the blatant lie he'd told Sam. He had never flat-out lied to Sam before and the guilt of that was now hitting him full force. He was starting to hate the responsibility of being the older brother. He didn't resent Sam and he would never willingly give up his role of protector, but everything was starting to feel very heavy on Dean's shoulders.

He grimaced and pulled the door open. He sat in the seat, feeling his father's presence all around him. He knew it was preposterous; when they'd hunted together, it was with the Impala. Dean grew up in that car and if he felt his father anywhere, it should be there. But the last time John was in the Impala, they were hit by a semi-truck and Dean didn't want to think about that.

With a shaking hand, he reached forward to open the glove compartment. It was outfitted with an obviously non-standard lock, but Dean knew how to get it open. He marveled again at how relatively undamaged the truck was and wondered what kind of thief steals a vehicle and doesn't take things out of it. Even the radio was untouched. He idly wondered if there was some sort of protection spell on it, or hidden images meant to keep the contents safe.

He found the standard things one might expect to find in a glove compartment, and one more item. A locked wooden box. He glanced around and, seeing one of Bobby's tool boxes not far away, left the truck to find something he could use to open the box.

It took longer than he expected to get it open, but inside was what appeared to be a twin of the journal John left for his sons to find in Jericho, California. Dean flipped through it, knowing he should take it inside to share with Sam, but not willing to give it up quite yet.

The first entry was dated a few days after John would have left Jericho. Dean scanned the pages, but was compelled to turn to the end.

oooOOOooo

Sam stood watching his brother in shocked disbelief. Dean was sitting on the ground, his back against their father's truck, sobbing. It wasn't the escape of a single tear that Sam had seen over the years and more recently; it wasn't the quiet desperation he walked in on at Missouri's house. This was his normally stoic brother, crying uncontrollably. His knees were up to his chin and his face was buried in his arms, but the shaking and the sound of the sobs was unmistakable.

He felt completely to blame because his own fear had kept him from coming outside with his brother. Knowing how fragile Dean was just a few short weeks ago, Sam left him to handle this difficult task on his own. Something spurred him to action and before Sam even realized he was moving, he was kneeling across from his brother with his hands on his arms.

"Dean."

Dean didn't pull away, but he didn't respond either. He just continued to sob desperately as if reacting to every pain he'd felt for the last twenty-seven years. Sam maneuvered until he was sitting next to his brother and pulled him into his arms. Dean didn't resist and Sam wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. He simply held his brother gently, but securely, not daring to speak. He felt Dean take a hold of his jacket and he was comforted knowing his brother at least realized he was there.

Sam nearly started crying himself when Dean leaned against him. He rested his cheek against the top of Dean's head, holding him more protectively. He didn't think about how odd this was, or how reminiscent of the way Dean would hold him when they were children, and he was scared. All he could do was be there and wait for Dean to talk to him.

He'd never seen Dean this way, but more frightening than the visual was the sound. The primal rawness of the uncontrolled sobs emanating from the person who Sam had only seen as strong and controlled was more than a little disturbing. But at the same time, he was somehow comforted to finally see Dean being truly human. He remembered reading somewhere that tears remove toxins in the body and he couldn't help but think that after this, Dean would be completely free of any pollutants for a long time to come. The longer Dean cried beside him, the more compelled Sam felt to hold him close.

Finally the sobs subsided, but Dean still didn't speak. He continued to grip Sam's jacket as if he was afraid his younger brother might disappear if he didn't have a hold on him. As they sat quietly, Sam was sure Dean would pull away at any moment. The longer his brother didn't move, the more Sam wished he knew what to say to him.

Still holding onto Sam, Dean reached behind him and grabbed the journal, handing it to his brother without a word. Sam didn't need to look closely to know it was a journal their father started after leaving his original one for them in California. Keeping an arm securely around Dean, Sam flipped the book open with his free hand. There was a year's worth of entries in the journal and he had no idea where to start.

"Last entry." Dean whispered, his voice rough from crying. There was no indication he wanted to move away.

Sam managed to turn to the last entry; he squeezed his brother's shoulders.

_I know the end is coming soon, but I still don't know what form it will take. No matter what, though, I will not let that bastard demon take my sons. God knows I've made mistakes with them, but they're all I have left of Mary and nothing is worth their deaths. I'm expendable; they aren't._

_And even with my mistakes, they've become incredible men. The way they rallied this last year has made me so proud; the way Dean took care of Sammy after Jessica's death reminded me of how he took care of me when Mary died. He became an adult way too soon and that's my fault, but he makes me proud. And Sammy – Sam – he's the quiet strength beside his brother._

_Everyone thinks I'm some hardass hunter who doesn't get afraid. The truth is I'm afraid all the time. I'm afraid for my sons. _

_I desperately wanted to keep the boys out of this final battle. Sammy was so insistent about being involved and how can I deny him what I've been trying to get for over twenty years? I took away his childhood to search for that damn demon and I can't very well keep him out of a fight against something that not only killed his mother, but his girlfriend._

_On the other hand, how do I let him in knowing what that bastard has in mind? How do I put my baby son in the line of fire that way? And Dean. I trained him and he's surpassed me in so many ways, but he's still my boy. I don't want him to get hurt either._

_If I don't survive this battle, the boys will probably find this book. What do I want them to read in here if they find it? God damnit, they shouldn't have to find out how I feel about them from this book. _

_There are so many things I should have said over the years; so many things I should have done. Boys, don't let this be your life. If I'm not able to do it, I know you'll want to kill the demon. You always see a job through to the end and this will be no different. But don't let it consume you the way it did me. Live your lives. Dean, I've put too much on your shoulders and when you feel ready, you need to share it with Sam. Your brother loves you and would do anything for you._

As Sam closed the book, he leaned his head against the truck and closed his eyes. He felt Dean pull away, but their shoulders still touched. They didn't speak for a long time.

oooOOOooo

Dean couldn't remember being so comforted by a touch before. There were flashes of sitting on his mother's lap and feeling her arms around him. He recalled some hugs from John over the years and when he and Sam were children they were never afraid to show their affection. But after they grew up, the physical displays were few and far between. Dean sought comfort and release from women, but without real emotion behind it, the outcome was empty. He often left them feeling worse than he had when he arrived.

As Sam sat beside him, his arm protectively around his shoulders, Dean felt like a child. He was safe and protected from the world and he felt as if nothing could hurt him right now.

oooOOOooo

Sam turned his head and opened his eyes when he felt Dean stand up. He had no idea how long they'd been sitting together, but the sun was much lower in the sky than when he'd come outside.

"Dean?"

The older brother looked at him. His eyes were red, but there was something almost peaceful about him.

"You okay, Sammy?"

"What did Dad mean?"

Dean still wasn't ready to tell Sam what John had shared with him before his death. He didn't want the burden of the truth, and he knew he would tell Sam soon, but now was not the time. He shook his head and held out a hand to help his brother up. Sam hesitated a moment, but accepted the gesture. He suspected Dean was keeping something from him, but also knew there was something more important to deal with. He could already see the walls going up around Dean.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Dean shrugged and turned away. Sam reached out for him. "Don't."

"Don't what, Sam?" Dean asked with a flash of anger as he pulled out of his brother's grasp.

"That! Don't run away from me. Don't pretend what just happened didn't. Come on, man. _Talk_ to me." Sam felt the tears in his eyes. "Please."

"It happened, okay? I lost it and you were never supposed to see that happen." Dean looked away, then turned back to Sam. His voice was soft. "You were never supposed to see that."

"Why?"

Dean looked at him, confused. "What?"

"Why was I never supposed to see that? Hell, Dean, I know you're not some damn superhero. When we were kids, I was in awe of you because there was nothing you couldn't do. You protected me; you made sure I was okay. We're not kids anymore and you still do that, but you don't have to. You don't always have to be the strong one, the one in charge, the one that won't get hurt. You're human, man, and as much as you think you need to protect me –" Sam stopped when he saw the hurt on his brother's face. "Dean –"

The older brother turned and started to walk away. Only a few steps away he turned back to Sam, tears threatening to overwhelm him again.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know what to do anymore, man. Dad's gone, you don't need me like—" Dean shook his head.

"I don't need you like what?"

"You said it yourself, man. You don't need me to protect you. I've been doing that your whole life and I don't know how to do anything else."

Sam had never felt like hitting his brother as much as he did now. He was frustrated that Dean only saw himself as something Sam had needed, something that only existed because of his use in some overall purpose. Dean didn't see himself as a person, as someone who deserved to have hopes and dreams. His entire existence was intertwined with Sam's; he wasn't real on his own merit. Sam took a deep breath.

"Dean, I still need my brother. I will always need my brother."

Dean looked as if he didn't believe him and Sam felt his heart breaking.

"Come on, man." he pleaded quietly. "Don't do this. You read what Dad wrote; he loved you because you're his son, not because you're some guardian. And I – I love you because you're my brother. I don't need you to protect me, but that doesn't mean I don't need you."

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but instead shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know, Sammy."

"I know." Sam said warmly. "And that should be good enough for you."

Dean looked at his brother; Sam had never seen quite that expression on his face before, but Dean looked at him the same way many times before. When Sam was asleep, hurt or sick and Dean felt scared or alone, he'd look at his little brother and fill with emotion. He kept it in check when he thought Sam might see him, but he couldn't quite manage his usual game face right now.

"This truck isn't going anywhere." Sam said a moment later. "I'll help clean it out later. Why don't we go into town, get some dinner and a couple of beers?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, that sounds great. But, uh, in a while, okay? I think I just want to take a walk and think about things."

Sam didn't want him to go, but knew Dean had been pushed beyond his limit and needed some time to collect himself. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Dean gave him a small smile before he headed off in the opposite direction of the house. Sam knew he'd be back, but there was a small part of him that was afraid. Once Dean had passed a corner, Sam shuddered involuntarily and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't know the cause of his fear, but that didn't make it any less real.

oooOOOooo

"You sure you don't want something to eat?" Bobby asked Sam later. The younger man was stretched out on a couch, an open book on his lap.

"No, thanks." he looked at his watch.

Bobby sat down across from him. "You boys okay?"

Sam thought about his answer for a moment. He needed to talk about things as much as Dean did, but he'd put all that aside so he could concentrate on his brother.

"It's hard, Bobby. There was so much unfinished with Dad, for both of us, and now –" he shrugged. "And Dean. He's worse off than I've ever seen him."

Bobby looked away, uncomfortably, then cleared his throat. "I saw a little bit of what happened outside. I know I shouldn't have been spying, but, well, without your daddy around – it's just that I feel a little bit of responsibility for you and your brother."

Sam smiled thankfully. "You don't have any responsibility, Bobby."

"I was one of John's friends. We hadn't spoken in a while, but that doesn't make the bond any less. I know Dean better than you might think. He's a lot like John in some ways." Bobby smiled, looking at Sam. "So are you, for that matter."

Sam looked down, but smiled.

"Dean's gonna be okay, Sam. You just have to be patient with him. Maybe you boys need a vacation, take some time off and do something you've always wanted to." Bobby leaned forward. "Now what about you? How are you doing?"

Sam shrugged and put the book aside. "Like I said, it's hard. I feel guilty; spent most of my life mad at him and I don't even know why."

"Sure you do. You didn't want to be a nomad; a hunter. You wanted a home; you wanted friends. You wanted to go to school, play soccer, do things a normal person does. Your daddy didn't give you that chance and you're mad at him for that."

"He did the best he could." Sam whispered.

"Yeah, he did." Bobby agreed. "But that doesn't mean it couldn't have been better. You can't change how you were raised, Sam, but there's something you can do. Stop feeling guilty for the fights. It takes two to argue and your daddy could be bullheaded and I'm sure he had his share of blame in those fights."

Sam laughed to himself. "Yeah, he did."

"And just because you fought didn't mean you didn't love each other. Hell, you probably fought so much because you did love each other and expected more from the other one. This ain't the kind of job to have when you've got a family, but your daddy wanted to make sure you and Dean were protected. Back when we were talking, he wouldn't shut up about you and your brother. He loved you both, and – " Bobby looked at him. "He knew you both loved him."

Tears stung Sam's eyes.

"He knew you loved him, Sam." Bobby patted his leg as he stood up.

oooOOOooo

Sam opened his eyes and wasn't sure where he was. The room was dark, but enough light was coming through the window that he soon recognized Bobby's living room. He had no idea how long ago he'd fallen asleep and looked at his watch. It was just after midnight.

He sat up quickly and looked around, but he was alone. As he headed to the bedroom he and Dean were sharing, he glanced out of the window and stopped short when he saw Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala.

"Hey." Sam said as he stood in front of his brother a moment later. "It's cold out here."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"How long have you been here?"

"A while." Dean looked down. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"For what?" Sam was confused.

"Being gone so long, for one thing. Did you eat?"

"Dean."

The older brother nodded and waved his hand. "Yeah, I know. You're not a kid and if you're hungry, you'll eat."

Sam waited.

"I'm also sorry for earlier. I shouldn't have lost it like that."

"Dean –"

"Not because I think I'm a superhero." Dean said, looking at him. "But because you're my brother and I should be able to talk to you before I get to the point I was this afternoon."

Sam was surprised and Dean continued before he could say anything.

"I don't know if I can do this." he said. "But I can try. I can try talking more and I can try handing off some of the responsibility. But all I can do is try."

"That's all I'm asking for, Dean."

"And don't expect to see a whole lot of chick flick moments, okay? We're not going on Oprah."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, okay."

Even though it was late, they decided to clean out the truck. Aside from the tools of the trade, the only thing they found inside was deep inside a duffle bag hidden in a locked container in the truck bed. It was a small metal box filled with pictures of them. They remembered some; Dean more than Sam only because he was older, but most seemed to have been taken when they weren't paying attention. There were a few more tears as well as some laughter over shared memories. Sam was spellbound by some stories he'd not heard before.

Exhausted and with John's few personal items in tow, the brothers headed off to bed. Sam smiled to himself when he saw Dean place his favorite knife under the pillow of his bed. Since finding it lodged in the wall of the Lawrence motel room, Sam had not seen the knife and watching his brother put it in the customary place made him feel like everything was going to be all right.

He and Dean still had a long way to go to come to terms with their father's death. Sam was also convinced there was something about that morning Dean was keeping from him, but he felt more positive than he had in a long time.

Sam reached for the lamp to switch it off. A moment later he heard Dean shift in his bed and call his name quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What you said earlier." he cleared his throat. "I, uh, I love you, too. Now shut up and go to sleep."

Sam smiled to himself and closed his eyes.

_Fin_


End file.
